


The Drarry Collection

by triggerlil



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Draco/Harry - Freeform, Drarry, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Harry/Draco - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/pseuds/triggerlil
Summary: Do you have a fic idea you really want to read? Or a favourite AU? Comment below and I'll write a drarry fic for it!!! The length will depend on how inspired by the prompt I am :P





	1. Potion Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry walks into potions class late and doesn't realise that they're brewing Amorentia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing soundtrack: https://8tracks.com/ililynati/potions-class-1  
> Original prompt: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9c/d5/f4/9cd5f4e1feab062b5c85ad9e21580536--harry-draco-draco-malfoy.jpg

Harry’s robes billowed around his ankles as he rushed through the corridors, his book bag jostling by his side; he was going to have a nasty bruise after the amount of times that bag hit him. He was also going to be so bloody late. 

Skidding to a stop outside the potions classroom, he ran a hand through his hair, which was even more unruly than normal, probably due to how often he had run his hand through it. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and taking in a breath, walked into the full classroom. 

The moment he stepped in he balked. The entire room smelt like Draco bloody Malfoy’s cologne. He scrunched up his nose. The unmistakable scent of broom stick polish, a citrus-flower scent, and treacle tart, was wafting around the room. What had the prat done, sprayed his cologne all over everything? However, instead of throwing Malfoy an angry glance, as he would normally have done if Malfoy bothered him, he realised he was suddenly very angry at the blond, what gave him the right to bombard Harry like this? As if he needed to smell more of him. It was bad enough that he even knew what Draco Malfoy smelt like, for peats sake, but that’s what you get when Draco Malfoy is always sticking his bloody wand in your face. 

“Late again I see, Potter.” Snape drawled from the front of the room.“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming at all.” 

Hermione and Ron turned around in their seats, smiling weakly at Harry. Draco had turned around as well, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Stupid, stupid Malfoy. 

“I wish I hadn’t.” Harry said, scowling. “The entire room smells like Malfoy, what did you do? Spill your expensive bottle of perfume?” 

At this everyone turned in their seats, mouths gaping and eyes wide. Harry looked around frantically, what had he done? Had the Malfoy comment been uncalled for? Was he being crazy? 

“This is Amortentia, Harry.” Hermione began, her hair fanning out behind her in a large ponytail. “It has an individual smell for each person, depending on what attracts them.” She looked worriedly at Ron, whose cheeks had turned red. Whether or not it was through anger at this reveal or embarrassment for his friend, Hermione couldn’t tell. 

Harry’s own cheeks had now deepened to the darkest shade of pink imaginable. He looked at Draco, the old smirk had been completely wiped off his face, replaced by a strange contortion of emotions that Harry couldn’t discern. His brows were furrowed, the tips of his ears were blushing, and he was biting his lip, hard. 

There was nothing left to be done, with a squeak, Harry turned on his heel and rushed out the door. He sped down the halls, the ground suddenly becoming very appealing. Behind him he could hear someone throwing the door open and calling his name, but he didn’t slow down. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the person following him to catch him, but he knew that he hadn’t wanted to publicly state to the class that he was attracted to Draco sodding Malfoy. He couldn’t believe it in the first place. He and Malfoy went at each other every chance they got, they hated each other, they hated everything the other stood for. 

And yet memories popped up in Harry’s mind. The paper crane, the way his stomach flipped every time Draco was near, the way he automatically started looking for his name every time he opened the marauder’s map. They hadn’t always been fighting either, there had been rare moments when they had shared small glances, they hadn’t been smiles, but they’d been looks. Harry had never known what it meant when they shared those looks, but perhaps now he knew. 

He rubbed his nose with his sleeve, the back of his throat starting to scorch. He had never cried over something like this, he didn’t want to start now.

“Potter!” Someone called, he turned, and running down the hall towards him was none other than Draco Malfoy. 

Harry ignored him and began to walk away, he had ended up in a miscellaneous corridor he didn’t recognize, so he had no idea where he was going, but anywhere was better than a confrontation by Malfoy. However,  Draco ran up and grabbed his arm. 

“Potter- Harry. Stop.” 

“Leave me alone Malfoy,” Harry snapped, attempting to pull away. 

Instead of letting him go, Draco spun Harry around so that they were facing each other.  The smell from potions class came to life once more: broomstick polish, a citrus-floral perform, and treacle tart. Harry’s knees felt weak, he could almost convince himself he could see his reflection in Draco’s grey eyes, that’s how close they were. His breathing hitched, and he imagined his face was once again turning a nice shade of pink.

“Is it true? You really smelled ... Me? In the potions room?” Draco asked, his voice tremulously low. A shiver ran down Harry’s spine.

“Yes.” He muttered, “the Amortentia smells like you and I announced it to the entire world and made a big fool of myself. What a way to figure out you like someone, by telling the entire class at the same time.”

“So you do like me?”

Harry glowered, “That’s what I just said isn’t-” His words caught in his throat as Draco leaned in, the fact that he was taller than Harry cementing himself in the way that Draco bent down, strands of blond hair falling in front of his face. He peered at Harry from behind them, his eyes sparkling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

A million memories rose up in Harry’s mind, both bad and good. However, with one more inhale, one more look in Malfoy’s eyes, the idea that Malfoy liked him too became the dominant thought, and with that, the moment consumed him. He didn’t know if his voice was going to work if he spoke, so he nodded once, and Draco closed the gap between them. 

Perhaps everything was moving too fast, he had only just realised he liked Malfoy- Draco, but he would deal with that later. Now that he had realised it, he knew this was what he wanted. He reckoned this was probably all he had ever wanted since the first day in Madam Malkin’s Robe Shop, when he had met a blond wizard who smelled of flowers and citrus trying on robes. 


	2. My Boyfriend Spoils Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A year after graduating from their eighth year at Hogwarts, Harry showers his shy and adorable boyfriend Draco with gifts and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt suggested by @Narniaona-finger  
> My writing soundtrack: https://8tracks.com/owlight/needed-you-more
> 
> So I'm doing the prompts in chronological order of when you commented, so don't worry I'll get to it eventually! Also unless I reply to you saying I don't plan on doing your prompt, assume that yours is on the way!

Draco wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, taking a sip of the steaming drink. It wasn't doing much to warm him after his trek through the snow, but it was better than nothing, and soon the heat of the coffee shop would seep into him, hopefully.

He looked to the swinging doors once more, waiting for Harry to arrive. This was their fifth official date, and he was worried he'd shown up too early. He didn't want to keep Harry waiting was all. Ever since Harry had asked him out, exactly three weeks ago and about two years after graduating from Hogwarts, he'd treated Draco to all four of their previous dates, and knowing Harry and his chivalrous Gryffindor ways, he wouldn't let Draco convince him to split the bill this time either. One could hope they didn't do anything involving having to spend money, but it seemed unlikely. Draco wasn't sure if Harry simply thought he was more accustomed to lavish dates, or whether he'd finally grown into his money, but the last three dates had all involved reservations or tickets. Of course there had been times when they weren’t dating, when they’d simply gone for walks or curled up in front of the TV. There had always been unspoken agreements to not do anything “date” like, since they weren’t dating. However, now that they were, well all options were open. Yet Draco missed the walks, the reading books together in the rain.

Finally Draco spotted Harry’s familiar messy black hair and round glasses; waving at him through the foggy glass.

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed as he entered the café, his eyes lighting up with the same innocent joy as always. Draco blushed, imagining his nose was already tinged red from the cold.

“I got you your favourite.” Draco said, indicating the steaming coffee in front of them; a gingerbread infused drink that Harry loved and Draco couldn't stand.

“Thank you.” Harry replied, leaning forward to give Draco a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting down across from him. Draco tried not to smile, but really it was impossible. How could you not look pleased when Harry Potter kissed you on the forehead? Draco could barely believe he was even thinking that sentence, let alone experiencing it.

After years of fighting with Harry at Hogwarts, it had been a surprise to learn, in eighth year, that they were actually quite similar, and believe it or not, got along quite well. After forming a tentative friendship, they’d begun enjoying each other’s company. Which had led to spending time together even after graduation, and now here they were, dating. Draco was still getting used to the way the words _my boyfriend Harry_ strung together.

Harry smiled over the top of his coffee, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Draco could melt under that gaze, those green eyes could tease anything and everything out of him if they wanted to.

“I brought you something.” Harry said, pulling a small package wrapped in plain brown paper out of his pocket. It was messily taped together, and a crude green bow was fashioned to the top. Harry grinned sheepishly, “I didn’t get the shop to wrap it this time, I wanted to try myself.”

“Harry you need to stop this, you got me something last time.” Draco reprimanded, but he took the package anyway. At least he hadn’t tried to pay for the coffee.

“It’s just,” Harry began, “you really are so, you’re so beautiful Draco. And I want you to know how much, well, how much I appreciate ... You. ” He finished awkwardly.

“Thank you, Harry.” Draco smiled, his heart beating a mile a minute, as if his teen crush had just called him beautiful. Which he had. He carefully began to open the present. Perhaps the wrapping job was a tad awful, but the fact that it was from Harry and that he’d obviously tried made his heart glow.

“The green bow is a nice touch.” Draco peeled apart the paper, revealing a pair of black leather gloves. They were embroidered with dark silver accents, a winding pattern that curled around the fingers, giving the gloves an ethereal sheen every time Draco turned them. He slipped in a hand, the interior lined with cashmere.

“Harry...” Draco whispered. “These are gorgeous.”

“Well, you said you’d been needing a new pair, and I saw these, and well they fit you so perfectly-”

“I love them.” Draco attested, “Thank you.”

Harry beamed, and Draco could feel his heart slowly melting, pooling at the bottom of his rib cage.

Outside, snow had begun to fall, the flakes clinging to people’s hair and eyelashes. People walked across the cobbled streets, those who had been hurrying to get out of the cold now slowing to appreciate the snow; friends, families, couples. Under the café sign, Draco slipped his hand into Harry’s, and they stepped out into the street, merging into the flow of people. This was Draco’s favourite, when they weren’t “Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived” and “Draco Malfoy: The Boy Who Fell From Grace”, they were simply Harry and Draco, and to any outsider looking in, they were just a couple holding hands, walking through the snow covered streets.


	3. Deep Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A rewrite of the bathroom scene in The Half-Blood Prince with an alternate ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt suggested by @daydreamingwolf  
> My chapter writing soundtrack: https://8tracks.com/ililynati/sorry-doesn-t-cut-it-anymore
> 
> I tried to stay to the core of the plot, but I varied hard for the ending, so I hope it's good!

Harry stood outside the room of requirement, the marauder’s map clenched tightly in his hands. The names of Draco Malfoy and Moaning Myrtle stared up at him from the tea coloured pages, their feet standing still in one of the bathrooms the floor below. Harry clenched his teeth, why was he the only one who ever realised Malfoy was up to something? Really, the signs were all there: Malfoy not paying attention to his friends, Malfoy being at the right place at the right time, Malfoy being extra snarky, Malfoy and his friends whispering, Malfoy staring at him. 

Harry shoved the map into his back pocket, heading down to the bathroom. The stairs above him shifted and changed, their steps and railings quietly moving from place to place as students scurried to get to the right location. 

“Where to in a hurry, Harry?” One of the paintings asked him, but he ignored it. The longer he was away from Malfoy, the antsier he felt. In the time it had taken to realise that Malfoy was conferring with Myrtle, and to figure out what he was going to do about it, who knew what he could have gotten up to? For all Harry knew, Malfoy was brewing a polyjuice potion right now. Not that he could necessarily fault him for that; Harry, Hermione, and Ron had brewed a few polyjuice potions themselves, but it was what Malfoy intended to do with it that could have potential consequences. If that was indeed what Malfoy was doing, he could also be practising illegal curses, creating horrible new jynxs, attempting to bring another basilisk to Hogwarts, secretly conferring with Voldemort, or snogging Myrtle. Harry shuddered as that picture entered his mind, was it even possible to snog a ghost? 

Finally Harry came to the hallway where the map stated Malfoy to be. He crept along the wall, inching towards the bathroom door. There was nothing loud enough for him to hear yet, Hogwarts eerily quiet, and for all his time here, Harry knew that Hogwarts was rarely quiet.

He stepped into the bathroom. All the things he had been expecting to find Malfoy doing quickly flew out the window. Harry walked forward slowly, his wand limp by his side in shock. In front of the large mirror, Malfoy was hunched over the sink, his shoulders rounded. Now Harry could hear it, Malfoy was sobbing, albeit quietly. They were the type of quiet, shameful sobs that, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop. You could be in public, and with one wrong thing, it all becomes too much. You can try to keep them at bay, but these sobs, these painful, body wracking sobs, will eventually escape. These were the sobs escaping Malfoy now, his shoulders moved up and down with each inhale, and Harry could see the tear tracks streaking Malfoy’s pink cheeks in the mirror, his eyes closed tight against his own reflection. Briefly Harry wondered how someone could be crying in such a way and still look mildly poised. 

Malfoy’s pale skin was streaked with tears, his cheeks drained of any potential colour by the heavy crying. His hair fell haphazardly in front of his face, light blond strands curling around his ears and across his forehead. His knuckles, too, were bleached white, blending in with the porcelain which Malfoy gripped as if it was the only thing keeping him up. All of this paired with his rumpled white dress shirt startled Harry. He looked like a ghost, as if he could be right at home with Moaning Myrtle and Nearly Headless Nick. However, in that moment, he possessed a scary sort of handsome beauty, and it chilled Harry. 

Harry’s silent observation did not last long, as Moaning Myrtle began to shriek. “Harry, Harry Potter! What are you doing here?”

Malfoy’s eyes snapped open, rimmed with pink, his grey irises stood out against the rest, bloodshot as they were.

Harry took a step back, “I know what you did, Malfoy.” The words coming out harsh and fast. He knew that Malfoy was vulnerable at this moment, but he didn’t like the pity that he was feeling for him now, he didn’t like the emotions that were roiling around in his gut. He didn’t want to feel anything about Draco Malfoy besides pure contempt. “I know you hexed her.” 

For a brief second they simply looked at each other, their eyes roaming, searching for something. Harry held his breath, but whatever Malfoy had been hoping to see, it obviously wasn’t there. He whipped out his wand, faster than Harry could blink, and a bright ball of electricity hurled itself Harry’s way. He dodged just in time, hurling back his own spell.

Malfoy bolted, heading past the sinks and towards the stalls. Harry followed, and all the while they threw spells back and forth, collections of light that exploded and sizzled when they hit the wall. Glass shattered behind Harry, and he stumbled forward. Malfoy was in a corner, a wall to his right and a bathroom stall to the left. He could have slipped under the stall, but it would have taken too long, and Harry would have been able to hit him with a stupefying spell before he could get away. 

“Malfoy, I just want to talk.” 

“Well, I don’t.” Malfoy spat, tears still making their way down his cheeks. He swiped at his nose with his sleeve. “Leave me alone Potter.” 

“Just tell me that you cursed Katie.” 

“I _didn’t_.” He replied, anger lighting up his face. 

“Of course you did, who else would have?” Harry said exasperatedly.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Malfoy began, clearly enunciating his words. “Get that through your thick skull, and leave me alone.” 

“If you didn’t then what is going on here Malfoy?” The sound of water spraying from a broken tap fizzed in the distance, and Malfoy sniffed, taking another swipe at his nose and eyes. Something in Harry compelled him to step forward, “Why were you crying?” 

Harry reached out, “Malfoy-” 

“Crucio!” Malfoy shouted, and suddenly Harry was lying on the ground, writhing in pain, and Malfoy stood above him, looking on in fright, as if it had all been an accident. White hot knives pierced Harry’s insides, and he groaned, pain coursing through him. Malfoy stepped over him, releasing the curse, and made his way through the wreck of a bathroom. Harry wheezed, the pain not yet subsided. However, he reached for his wand. His vision swam as he watched Malfoy walk away, Harry lifted his wand ever so slightly, and it wavered as he pointed it. 

“Sectumsempra.” Harry muttered, and time slowed. As if in slow motion, Harry watched as Malfoy began to fall, and as he did, gashes sprang forth on Malfoy’s back and arms, his shirt splitting open. He hit the ground in a mess of blood and flesh. Harry grunted, ignoring his body’s ache of resistance, and rushed forward to Malfoy, slipping on water and blood.

“No, no, no.” Harry began to mumble, dropping to his knees by Malfoy’s body. “No, Malfoy, no, no, no, I didn’t know.”

Harry’s hands hovered over Malfoy, fluttering over his ravaged back, following the slashes. “I didn’t mean for, no, no, no.” 

Blood was beginning to seep from Malfoy’s chest now, and Harry felt panic surge up, his brain beginning to sputter out. He could barely think, he didn’t know what to do, he knew he should somehow get a teacher, or get Malfoy to a nurse, but he couldn’t think of a where or how, all he knew was he had to help Malfoy. He needed to get a professor, but he was worried that in the time it took, Malfoy would die. His breathing was coming out in short gasps, and he clutched his wand tightly, his eyes frantically moving from the door to Malfoy, half expecting someone to come in at any moment. Now it was Harry’s turn to start crying, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes, dripping down his chin. 

Harry took in a wobbling breath, and as fast as he dared, he pushed his hands under Malfoy, rolling him onto his back and picking him up. His feet dangled across one side of Harry's arms and his head lolled on the other. Blood slicked across Harry’s arms and chest, and he hurried out of the bathroom.

Through the halls Harry ran, somehow never once getting tired as he carried Draco. He saw no professors and no students. Harry listened for Draco’s breathing, and thus far he still was, slow and short, but still breathing. He pushed into Madame Pomfrey’s infirmary, his knee’s beginning to give out as he stumbled in. 

A patient turned at the sound of the intrusion, and at the site of a bloodied and scared Harry Potter carrying an even bloodier and dead looking Malfoy, called loudly for Madame Pomfrey. 

Someone tried to take Draco from Harry’s arms, but he didn't want to let go, blabbering on about how he needed to make sure Draco was alright.   Finally, someone pried Draco from Harry’s arms, and Harry followed behind, still blubbering. Someone sat Harry down in a chair near Draco’s bed, and Madame Pomfrey muttered spells, desolving Draco’s shirt. 

“The spell only reached his back and chest, thank the saints.” Madame Pomfrey muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Yet Harry winced at the sight of Draco’s back. The cuts were raised and lumpy, Draco’s perfect skin puckering around the wounds, red and angry. Blood had begun to dry around the edges, black and gnarled. Harry wanted to look away, but he felt that he couldn’t, he owed it to Draco. He had done this, he had to face it. 

The doors to the infirmary burst open, Snape entering. He looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him in his entire life, and underneath that, Harry thought he recognized fear. 

“Where’s Draco?” He snarled, his black robes swirling around him, his greasy hair whipping across his face.

“Here Severus.” Madame Pomfrey called, ushering Snape to Draco's bedside. 

Snape immediately began uttering a sort of lulling spell that Harry assumed was the counter curse. Harry watched in amazement as the blood flow from the gashes slowed, the wounds knitting together in front of Harry’s eyes. 

After the third utterance Snape quickly moved aside, Madame Pomfrey rushing in. She cleaned the dried blood from the wounds and began applying dittany, all the time worry cinching her brow.

“He’s going to have these scars for the rest of his life I’m afraid, Severus. The dittany will help lessen them, but, well we simply didn’t get to them in time.”

“And whose fault was that?” Snape growled. Harry knew it had been coming. Snape turned to him, his features set in a deep scowl. Harry hated Snape, but the mixture of emotions playing across the professor's face reminded Harry that Draco was almost a son to Snape, and to walk in on said almost son nearly dead... 

“Explain yourself Potter. Now.” 

“I read about sectumsempra in a book, I didn’t know what it did it was just explained as a curse.” Harry began, unsure of how he should explain himself. “I found Draco in the bathroom crying, and he used the cruciatus curse on me so I used sectumsempra because I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t realise this would happen, I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t find a professor or anyone, so I carried him here.”  
Snape gave Harry’s bloody jumper a once over, he couldn’t debate that fact. 

“Madame Pomfrey, I trust that Draco will be alright now?” Snape asked, turning away from Harry completely.

“He’s in a stable condition, but I want to keep an eye on those scars plus he’ll need some days to heal. I assume he’ll be awake some time late tonight, it is already past curfew.” 

“Good. I am going to consult Dumbledore on this ... Event.” 

With that Snape left the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey finished with Draco and turned to Harry, “I’m not sure what happened, but it was smart of you to bring Draco to us. It would have taken too long if you had tried to get a professor, what with Snape being the only person who knows the counter curse. You would have wasted too much time with the confusion.” 

Harry sighed and slumped into his chair, a wave of relief finally washing over him. Draco was alright, he’d done the right thing, everything was fine now. Harry glanced at Draco. Everything was fine for Harry, but he suspected it would be a long time before things were ever alright for Draco. 

“Let’s get you a new shirt, and you can sleep in one of the infirmary beds instead of leaving past curfew.” 

“Thank you.”

“No trouble at all dear, you’ve had quite a shock today. Here, there’s one next to Malfoy. You keep an eye on him and get me if anything happens.” 

“I will.” Harry smiled in thanks, no matter what you could always count on Madame Pomfrey.

* * *

 

Harry jolted awake, breathing heavily. He had been in the bathroom again, but this time it was Malfoy who had used sectumsempra on him. 

“Nightmare?” A raspy voice asked. Malfoy was lying awake in his bed, his eyes shining in the dark. 

“Yeah.” Harry replied, he tried to gauge what Malfoy was thinking. He’d expected the first thing for Malfoy to say to him after the incident to be angry expletives. 

“I woke up an hour ago and couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

“Oh...” 

“Madame Pomfrey came and asked if I wanted a sleeping draught, but I'm not a fan of them.” Draco attempted to shrug and sucked in a breath, pain distorting his face.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, clambering out of bed and going towards him. “Don't move like that.”

“I’m fine.” Draco gasped, but he didn’t look it. 

“Should I get Madame Pomfrey?”

“No, just... Sit there.” Draco sighed. 

Harry pulled a chair over, sitting down cautiously. He was confused by Draco’s attitude. They rarely talked without insulting each other, and that was before they had both used dark curses on each other. 

They sat in silence for a little while, looking everywhere but each other, until Draco finally spoke. 

“Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way to the infirmary after.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“And that you wouldn’t let me go.” 

Harry blushed, “Yeah, I remember something like that.”  
“And that you were blubbering about how you needed to make sure I was safe.”

Harry looked down at the ground. 

“Were you worried about me?”  
Harry nodded, too embarrassed to look at Draco. 

“Why?” 

This made Harry look up, blinking in confusion, “What- What do you mean why?” 

“Why not just leave me there, or pretend that you randomly found me like that.” 

“Because I- I was worried, I thought you were going to die, and I didn’t know how to help you by myself.”

“You were worried?” Draco asked incredulously, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “The great Harry Potter was worried about me?” 

Harry stifled a grin, even in the midst of healing from being slashed to shreds, Draco could still find it in himself to be snarky. 

“Of course you git, I was worried about you the moment I stepped into the bathroom and saw you...” He trailed off.

Now it was Draco’s turn to avoid his eyes. Again they lapsed into a strange silence, not entirely uncomfortable, but not pleasant. 

“Harry...” Draco began, trepidation in his voice.

“What?”

“What do the scars look like?” He asked. 

“I don’t know-” 

Draco gave a small nod to the sheet that had been lain over him, “Describe them for me.” 

Harry gulped, leaning forward. He pulled the sheet back slowly, and Draco squeezed his eyes tight as it lifted off his back, the cool air hitting his still sensitive skin. 

Harry stared openly at Draco’s back, moonlight shining through the infirmary windows, the scars seemed ethereal.

“They’re silver,” Harry began. He reached out a hand to hover over the scars, holding his breath, trailing the slashes like in the bathroom. “They’re raised slightly, they're thin, but they're crisscrossed entirely across your back, kind of like ripples on water. They’re,” Harry paused, “They’re beautiful.”


	4. Fashion Favours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry is despereate for fashion advice, Draco helps him, and somehow they end up going to the Yule Ball together  
> Suggested by: @Lina  
> Chapter writing soundtrack: https://8tracks.com/ililynati/we-move-lightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this, summer school has been killing me. Also I know that like, students aren't normally able to visit Diagon Alley, etc, during the school year, but oh well! Also I doubt anything like "the Floo Station" exists, but again, oh well!

Harry stood in front of the mirror, as he held up one robe in front of him, then the other. He put on one robe, turned to the left, then turned to the right, then took it off. He put on the other robe, turned to the left, then turned to the right, then took it off. He switched ties, tried bows, tied his hair up, parted it to the side, put on different shoes, tried different vests, switched pants.

“Is any of this working for you, Mr. Potter?” Madam Malkin asked, her grey bob and glasses bouncing in the mirror behind him.

“I’m not sure, there are so many bloody choices,” he huffed, and Madam Malkin frowned, looking at the heap of clothes and robes around Harry’s feet.

With a flick of her wand she sent the clothes and accessories back to their hangers. “Perhaps you should come back when you have more of an idea.”

“Maybe.” Harry sighed, “Thank you, Madam Malkin.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, Harry.”

He was about to ask if he could owl a request for robes later, when the bell above the shop jingled. Madam Malkin’s eyes lit up, her wrinkled face pulling into a genial smile.

“Mr. Malfoy, darling. What can I help you with today?”  
“Madam Malkin, always a pleasure,” he smiled. Really, Malfoy was quite attractive when he wasn’t busy insulting you. “I’m looking for yule ball attire.”  
“Mr. Potter here was searching for the same thing.” Madam Malkin smiled.

Draco smirked, looking Harry up and down. “Difficulties, Potter?”

“No, I was just leaving.” Harry said, pushing past the two. The bell jingled once more, and behind him he heard Draco detailing the robe he envisioned for the Yule Ball, Madam Malkin agreeing enthusiastically to every idea.

Why was it so hard to pick out one robe? At this point, he didn’t even have a date, so really, what was the point? Ginny was going with Neville, Hermione with Krum, Cho with Cedric, Padma with Ron. He supposed he could ask Parvati, but she was more a friend than anything else, and it didn’t seem fair to ask her if he didn’t truly like her. Although everyone knew that Padma wasn’t who Ron actually wanted.

As Harry walked around, kicking piles of snow in frustration, an idea began to form in his mind. He made his way back to Madam Malkin’s robe shop, and peering in through the glass he saw that Malfoy was still there, marvelling at himself in the mirror.

Harry loitered outside, attempting to appear nonchalant and failing miserably. Finally, after Harry had nodded awkwardly at what felt like the millionth person, Malfoy walked out of the shop, looking quite pleased with himself.

When he noticed Harry, the smile quickly slipped from his face.

“Still here, Potter?”

Harry stared at Malfoy blankly, after waiting for all that time, he hadn’t thought of how to approach what he was about to say, and the anger from being snubbed by him drained out entirely.

“Headed back to Hogwarts, Malfoy?”

“I am ...”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

Malfoy gawked, and Harry winced, realizing how that question had probably sounded. After Malfoy got over his initial shock, realizing that Harry wasn’t joking, he sighed.

“Do I have a choice?”

Harry grinned. “No, not really.”

They set off for the floo station, their steps eventually syncing. Malfoy looked altogether uncomfortable at the situation, and Harry was surprised that he was even letting this happen. The floo station was on the other side of Diagon Alley, but Harry suspected that when dealing with Malfoy, it was best to get straight into it, just in case something turned sour.

“So, Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m walking with you.”

Malfoy gave him a dry look; _get to the point._

“Yes, anyway, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

Malfoy looked at him incredulously for a moment, similar to when Harry had first asked to walk with him, and then he began to laugh. Harry’s eyes widened; he didn’t think he’d ever heard Draco Malfoy truly laugh before, and he hated to admit it, but it was mildly infectious; he couldn’t help smiling as well.

“ _You_ want to ask _me_ a favor?” Draco finally managed, slightly embarrassed for losing his composure.

“Well you know fashion, Malfoy, and I’m at a loss for the Yule Ball,” Harry said quickly. He didn’t want to be doing this, but he was at a last resort.

“Why not just ask someone in your little trio, or one of the other Gryffindors?” Malfoy asked, his voice dripping venom on Gryffindor.

“They don’t know how to help, and Ron’s terrible at fashion.”

Malfoy seemed to be considering it, and as they came upon the floo station, he turned to Harry. “Meet me outside the great hall after dinner tomorrow.”

Than Malfoy stepped stepped into the fireplace’s bright green flames, and disappeared back to Hogwarts. Approaching Malfoy had been a heat of the moment decision, and he’d half hoped it would descend into fighting if only for the ability to release some frustration. He shook his head. If Malfoy wasn’t planning on killing him tonight, then he would take the fashion advice, if only in the hopes of impressing his future date at the Yule Ball.

* * *

 

The entire day Malfoy and Harry had been awkwardly dancing around each other. In potions class they had been partners, and kept up an actually pleasant conversation. As Harry sat through dinner staring at Malfoy, Ron and Hermione gave each other nervous glances, their past arguments seemingly blown over for the time being. When Malfoy finally got up from the Slytherin table, Harry nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Where are you going, Harry?” Hermione asked, glancing from Malfoy, who had looked pointedly at Harry as he’d passed by the Gryffindor table, to Harry, who was itching to follow Malfoy.

“No where, I just have to, uh.” He stumbled, looking for a lie that wouldn’t make them want to follow him. “I promised to help McGonagall with something,” he finished, then rushed out of the great hall.

Malfoy was waiting for him, a scowl on his face.

“I know I'm handsome Potter, but did you really need to stare at me all dinner?”

Harry blushed, trailing behind Malfoy as he led them away.

“It's your fault for not giving a specific time.”

“Really, Potter? Play the blame game with someone doing you a favor.”

Harry scowled but remained quiet. He had thought he and Malfoy had gotten on well during their walk through Diagon Alley, but apparently that had been a fluke.  

After they had walked through multiple corridors, and gone up and down various stairs, Harry had to break his vow of silence.

“Where are we going exactly, Malfoy?”

He didn’t respond, simply leading them to a closed door. Harry looked around, unsure if he had ever been in this part of the castle before.The paintings were all of foreign landscapes: glaciers, rolling hills, steep escarpes. There were no students rushing through these corridors, no sounds of magic or frivolity. The only sound was Malfoy as he slowly pushed the door open.

It was an empty classroom, the desks and seats pushed to the far sides of the wall. The front of the classroom consisted of a plain chalkboard, any marks now long gone.

“No idea what classes used to be taught here,” Malfoy began, “but it’s been empty for a long time.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been coming here since first year, and there’s never been anyone else.”

“Why would you come to an abandoned classroom?”  
“Because sometimes I need to be alone,” Malfoy snapped, striding to the center of the room. He motioned for Harry to follow. They stood in the center of the room, facing each other, neither of them speaking. Harry was reminded of second year, when he and Draco had faced each other to duel.

“This seems a tad much all for a bit of advice,” Harry ventured, but not wanting to push Malfoy away. Whether or not it was a bit over the top, he needed, wanted, Malfoy’s help.

“Why? Scared, Potter?”  
Harry grinned. So Malfoy had realised the same thing.

“You wish.”

With that Malfoy appeared to come to his senses, turning away abruptly. Harry frowned. Whenever he thought he and Malfoy were beginning to get along, he was proven wrong.

“So ... fashion.”

“Yes, yours is atrocious,” Malfoy said, falling back into their easy pattern of banter. “If you want to ask any respectable witch to the Yule Ball, you need to improve your day to day look.”

Harry looked down at his robes, “I wear the same uniform as everyone else.”  
Malfoy rolled his eyes, motioning to the entirety of Harry. “Yes, okay, but your hair's a mess, your robes are falling off your shoulders, your sweater is rumpled, and your ties are always skewed.”

Harry sighed, but stood up straighter, running a hand through his unruly hair. He tightened his tie, flattened his sweater, and set his robe to rights.

“Better?”

“Marginally. Now, what have you been thinking of wearing to the Yule Ball?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve no idea, nothing I try on ever looks right.”

Malfoy stepped back, examining Harry from all angles, and Harry tried not to blush under the scrutiny.

“There’s only one thing for it,” Malfoy finally concluded, pulling out his wand.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, don’t worry Potter. I’m not about to hex you.”

Malfoy waved his wand, and suddenly Harry felt his clothes transform around him. He stared down incredulously, his school robes slowly morphed into handsome party robes, his sweater turning into a white button up, his staple Gryffindor tie now a white bow tie.

Before Harry could even remark on how incredible that magic was, Malfoy was shaking his head.

“No, these won’t do.” Again, he waved his wand, and Harry’s clothes transformed. Malfoy did this a few times, until Harry was standing in some of the finest robes he’d ever worn. He was not one to recognize good fashion taste, but even he had to admit that he felt like royalty in these dress robes. Sleek and black, a white vest, and a deep mahogany bow.

“How do they look?” he asked, wishing he could see his reflection.

“I have to admit they look good ... On you.” Malfoy grimaced, forcing the words out.

Harry laughed, as the clothes dissolved back to normal. “What was that spell you used, Malfoy? I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“My mother taught it to me, it’s well known in the wizarding fashion world. Now, what are you going to do about that hair?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Malfoy shook his head, “I suppose there’s nothing to be done at this point.”

As the conversation trickled off, they realized that they were standing in an empty classroom together, alone, and that if anyone were to walk in right now the school, even Krum wouldn’t be able to shut up the school's gossip.

“Well I guess I should go ... Look for a date to the ball.”

“Of course.”

“Who are you bringing?”

Malfoy gave a very un-Malfoy like shrug. “No one, yet.”

“You don’t have a date?”

“No I don’t Potter, problem?”

“No well- I just figured someone ... Like you ... Would already have a date.”

“Someone like me?” Malfoy asked, his eyes glinting. Firelight flickered across his face, the sky outside already dark. Orange light played across Malfoy’s blond hair, the room felt so big and empty, again Harry was reminded of the fact that they were completely alone.

“Well, I suppose, well you know what I mean Malfoy.”

He smirked. “No, Potter, I don’t know what you mean. Care to explain?”

Harry coughed, “I mean someone handsome like you.”

Malfoy took a step towards him, somehow the snappy atmosphere had dissipated. The room felt tense.

“You think I’m handsome, Potter?” His voice dropping, he stepped forward again, until they were nearly toe to toe, and Harry gulped.

“I mean, that’s, yeah maybe.” Harry choked, “Maybe I do.”

Now the tips of their shoes were indeed touching, Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath light on his cheek, the warmth radiating from his hands. He didn’t understand how they’d reached this point, it was as if the dislike that had always been a buffer between them had snapped, leaving them with this tension that neither of them knew what to do with.

“So what are you going to do about it?”   
Harry blanked, what was he going to do about it? What did Malfoy want him to do about it? He searched frantically for the right answer, for whatever would uphold this strange state that he and Malfoy had found themselves in. Because whatever was happening right now, Harry wanted it to last. It felt too perfect, and he needed to preserve it. An invisible clock ticked away in Harry’s mind, and he scrambled for an answer.

“I’m going to- uh, I’m,” Malfoy tilted his head expectantly, “I’m- Malfoy do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Harry blurted out, blinking stupidly. Malfoy’s mouth opened and closed a little, another very un-Malfoy like gesture.

“What?” Malfoy stepped back, and Harry ached for the moments before. “Us go to the Yule Ball together?”

“Is that- No?”

“I- I don’t know Potter, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well than what you were expecting?”

“I was _expecting_ this,” Malfoy said, and Harry had a second to wonder what he was eluding too, until Malfoy’s arms were around Harry’s neck. Malfoy kissed him, hard; he tasted like winter and mint, his hair tickling Harry’s forehead. Harry’s glasses slid up his nose as the kiss deepened, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands, finally opting to clutch the front of Malfoy’s robes. When they finally pulled apart, arms still around each other, Harry felt as if his entire face was on fire.

Malfoy smirked wickedly, “ _That's_ what I was expecting you git.”

“If you'd just told me you wanted to snog I would have happily complied.” Harry responded, already wishing he could turn back time and be kissing Malfoy all over again.

“Well, since we've already missed curfew, we might as well stay a bit longer,” Malfoy suggested, already leaning down for their next kiss.

When they left the abandoned classroom it was already an hour past curfew, Harry’s robes and hair more of a mess than when he'd came in, but Malfoy couldn't complain this time, seeing it was entirely his doing.

“That was an invigorating lesson, Potter.” Malfoy whispered, and Harry smiled sheepishly as they made their way through the corridors, listening intently for signs of Filtch or Mrs. Norris.

When they finally reached the point where they needed to split ways, they turned and stared at each other, unsure what sort of parting was customary for their strange situation.

“Well, Potter-”

“Draco do you _actually_ want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Draco laughed, and Harry, again, was amazed by how much he liked that sound. Draco pushed a strand of hair behind his ears, “Yes, I’ll go to the Yule Ball with you Harry.”

* * *

 

Harry and Draco stood at the refreshments table, sipping sparkling punch. They watched people bounce up and down on the dance floor, the Weird Sisters singing into the crowd.

It had been a strange past few days, every time Harry woke up he wondered if he’d really asked Draco to the yule ball or if it had all been a strange dream, but then they would brush hands in the hallway, throwing a good natured insult for appearances, and Harry would feel a happy sort of electricity coursing through his arms for the rest of the day. When they could, he and Draco would sneak off to the abandon classroom, no longer bothering to talk about fashion, they were wholly occupied by other tasks.

When they had walked into the great hall together, the chandelier sparkling brightly, whispers had ricocheted throughout the room. Harry had been nervous at first, worried that someone would call out, or that Draco would decide he hated Harry again. However, when it was time for the dance of the Triwizard Tournament competitors, Harry was too busy attempting to keep up without stepping on Draco’s toes to notice anything, and when he glanced over at Krum and Hermione, she had given him a knowing smile.

Ron had yet to talk to him that night, but Harry didn’t really blame him, it would take time before Ron would come around to the idea.

One of The Weird Sister’s slower songs began to play, and people filtered off the dance floor, making room for the couples.

“Care to dance, Draco?” Harry asked, extending a hand.

“I suppose I can spare one.” Draco said cheekily.

They stepped onto the dance floor, Harry putting an awkward arm on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco placing his hands on Harry’s hips.

“It’s unfair that you dance so well.”

“I did take lessons in my youth,” Draco said, as they began to move with the music. “You just need to relax.”

Harry looked around at the other couples, everyone was enraptured by their own partner as they swayed back and forth. Harry tilted his head upwards, and pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips.

“Okay, let’s dance.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised that I've written all my chapters so far from Harry's perspective, so the next few prompts I'll probably do Draco. Feel free when you request a prompt to ask for a certain perspective (or even one that flips between them lol)!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked that please comment a prompt idea below! :)  
> (I reserve the right to decline prompts if I don't feel comfortable writing them)


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